


Nightflight - So Far Away

by Golden_Viper



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Disappointment, Expectations, Friendship, Gen, Long-Distance Friendship, Rift Rivals, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 17:58:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19405321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Viper/pseuds/Golden_Viper
Summary: Yasin and Mads have been friends for a long time, even though they’ve gone their separate ways. Yasin is excited to see Mads again after leaving Europe for North America a second time, and Mads feels the same way. However, things aren’t the same as they used to be.Set during Rift Rivals 2019





	Nightflight - So Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t the style in which I usually write, so it might be a little clunky. However, I really wanted to write about these two during the event, so here you go! Broxah and Nisqy - a truly underrated friendship.

Mads and the rest of Fnatic have the afternoon flight. It won’t be the first time Mads flies to Los Angeles, so far away from Berlin, and farther still from home. Everything was arranged perfectly as usual, and the team all got on the flight on time, most of their baggage already loaded at the airport. He helps some of his teammates with their smaller luggage, assisting with lifting their bags into the on-flight compartments. Tim is a little short, and not that strong, and Gabriël got the angle wrong for his, so he’s happy to be around for the others. It’s nice to feel needed. 

Most of the team have their phones on themselves at all times for the flight - for music, downloaded movies, e-books and other things. He gets that - he’ll be spending a lot of time on this flight listening to music himself. Maybe he’ll get sick of that after a while, though. The flight has movies, so maybe he can watch something to take a few hours off the flight. He’s about thirteen hours away from the west coast of the United States, after all. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the flight recording tells them, ‘welcome aboard Lufthansa.” Mads listens intently to what the recording has to say. He notes down the in-flight menu for food and drinks, entertainment, and the safety instructions. He notes the emergency exits around him. Already, this has begun to draw out, and not even half an hour has gone by. Mads is seated on an inner seat of a window row, so he can’t stare out of it. The young woman beside him has that luxury; he remembers her name is Mila, as they exchanged greetings when they sat down. He didn’t ask her why she was on the flight, and she didn’t ask him. Just a greeting and an exchange of names was enough. 

The takeoff doesn’t last as long as the wait for the plane to actually start moving. He could see Tim grasping onto the side of his chair until his knuckles went white during the liftoff of the plane. Is Tim afraid of takeoffs? He hopes he’s okay - he isn’t allowed to leave his seat and ask, after all. Before he even realises it, he’s ten thousand meters above the ground below. From what he can make out in the window, Germany looks so small. 

Just around thirteen hours, and he’ll be in Los Angeles - probably very tired. He’ll be able to see Yasin there, he remembers. It’s a funny little irony. The last time they were in the States together, Yasin and Mads had been competitors becoming allies, and this time they were the enemies. North America against Europe, and a battle of bragging rights. Only one of them could come out as two-time winners, and Mads smiles at that - relaxed, friendly competition against Yasin isn’t something he can remember. Maybe Yasin is waiting for him too, across the ocean.

He doesn’t know how long he has been in flight when Gabriël walks over, presumably on the way to the restroom. “If I get coughed on one more time, I’m going to punch somebody,” he laughs, and Mads looks at him, a little confused, but offering a smile nonetheless. “Of course I won’t, Mads. I hope you can still feel your ass because I sure can’t.”

“You can just hold your breath,” Mads suggests, choosing to let the last part slip, and Gabriël shrugs with a grin and walks off. Mads smiles after him. The music is getting a little old now. Maybe thirteen hours includes a couple of movies, after all. It’s going to be a very long flight.

It’s later into the flight when Mads thinks of Yasin again. Outside, he can see the ocean, and a whole lot of nothing else. He doesn’t have a good view, and doesn’t want to lean over Mila - she’s asleep, and he doesn’t want to wake her up. He thinks of Yasin because of all the open nothing - so much distance has separated them. After Yasin first went to America, he missed him dearly. He was much younger back then. Yasin only returned later, and he was happy to be closer to Yasin again, even if closer wasn't as close as they were before; it’s just something that comes with not being on the same team anymore. The distance since Yasin moved back feels the same as last time. They talk over text sometimes, but it’s not like being there with him. 

He misses him. It’ll be good to see him again. He hears someone cough. It’s probably the person Gabriël is sitting next to. He hopes he doesn’t actually punch them, even if he said he wouldn’t. Yasin would do something like that. Not that Mads can be sure now. It’s been a while. 

He leans back and closes his eyes. Those okay movies, music, and some sleep all have a place in the thirteen hours he has on this flight. He’ll have to tell Yasin when he lands - he did ask to be let know, after all. Mads set a reminder for their due time, just so he wouldn’t forget. Will Yasin be as happy to see Mads as Mads is to see him?

—

Yasin isn't exactly tired. He doesn't think so, anyway. He shifts too much in his bed - moving his hips under the blanket, shifting around his shoulder and changing around the angle of his neck on his pillow, pushing his cheek - it’s nothing comfortable, no matter what he tries. If he was tired, he'd fall asleep much faster than this. He feels too restless tonight. It happens to everyone, really, so it's nothing out of the ordinary, is it?

Still blows.

He gets himself into various positions in his bed, unable to find something that brings him comfort. He grumbles into his pillow. He has to just be restless, right? But why? He thinks about things that might be nagging at him. The day has been pretty good - Yasin and the others all had a day off! Nothing particularly bad happened. If anything, he liked the more chill day for once after four weeks of LCS. Rift Rivals isn't anything to stress about anyway.

Shit. He thought about it. Rift Rivals. He wriggles a bit in his bed, pushing on his side, his head at an awkward angle. So maybe Yasin has been looking forward to this. He's been looking forward to it a lot. He knew Mads would be in the top three for Spring and be able to meet him here - it was really a matter of Yasin being able to do the same thing. He lets his eyes slip closed. Their last reunion had been nice. It was good to see Mads again. They're such good friends, aren't they?

They are, Yasin decides. So far away.

They don't talk like they used to, but that's okay! They've been apart for half a year in very different timezones, so it's no wonder they haven't communicated as much. But Mads is coming soon, and Yasin can't wait. He thought about this more than he was expecting to. Rift Rivals - last year they'd come to compete on the same side, representing their home of Europe, and this year they'd be on opposite sides of the rift. He'll have to be sure to get a kill on Broxah at least once.

He'll just be so happy to see him. He misses Mads a lot. They were such great friends - not that they aren't now, right? Of course they're still great friends. He curls a finger into the belt loop of Mads' pants, and they walk about Los Angeles together. He shows Mads all best food places in the city, and Mads gets to feel that atmosphere again after a year. With Yasin. Mads tells Yasin he missed him, and Yasin says it too. They hug and Yasin smiles, and it's the greatest day ever. He asks Mads if-

The alarm on his phone blasts him roughly away from hIs dreams, like a bird shot out of the sky. Yasin pouts at his phone - he wishes that dream was real. But it can be real. It'll be real when Mads lands in Los Angeles. He was going to meet him there at the airport, but Yasin ultimately decided that Mads and Fnatic were better off getting to their hotels sooner. Mads will be tired, anyway. He can save what he has to say later.

He rolls over, and tries to go back to sleep. 

-

Mads is the one to tell Yasin that he's landed and when he's at the hotel - to which Yasin responds quickly and asks if they can meet up. Mads is so tired from the thirteen-hour flight, he has to reluctantly tell his friend that they can meet the next morning. Yasin tells him about a nice kebab place and even though Mads knows the flavours won't be the same, he knows Yasin loves kebab, and he likes it as well. The 'NA Food' meme has some truth. 

Unpacking is a mission of its own. Apparently some of the G2 players didn't get their luggage, so he sends a text to Rasmus to ask about it, and goes back to his own things while he waits for a response. He wasn't expecting Dan to be the first one unpacked and ready. Mads feels happy that his fellow jungler is enthusiastic, and hopes he'll do great things with Fnatic. When he checks his phone after a notification jingle rings, it's Yasin who has texted him. 

_ "Here's the place!"  _ with an address pasted in the message is what Mads receives. It's the kebab place. He knows Yasin didn't think of that on his own, because always forgets the little details like giving addresses. Mads has been so tired, he forgot to ask. The jetlag hasn't quite hit him yet, but it's barely been a few hours. With a wide yawn, he reconsiders that with a small chuckle. Jinxed it.

He and Yasin don't speak for the rest of the day.

\--

The next morning is when Yasin texts first. He asks Mads if their… well, it's not a date, because they're just friends, and not the kind of friends Perkz and Doublelift are. Just a lunch. Their lunch out is still on, he decides to type out, and Mads responds with a yes and a happy little emoji. Mads tells Yasin it'll be good to see him again, and Yasin grins. He tells Mads he'll see him there. He should have told him he's also happy to see him, he thinks right afterwards. Whatever. It's too late anyway, right?

Yasin is the first one there, with an outside table. The heat of the California sun is always milder than the heatwaves that strike Europe every summer, and the fresh air isn't something he gets a lot of. He breathes in the delicious scent of kebab. It reminds him of home, but everything else around him reminds him of his life in America. A lot of people wouldn't belong here - for Yasin, this isn't the case. 

Mads is right on time, and Yasin stands up out of his seat the moment he sees him - Mads is an easy person to recognise with his small eyes, his broad shoulders and his unmistakable face. The face of his best friend. One of his favourite faces in the world. Mads holds his huge arm over Yasin, who somehow feels even smaller than the times before. 

Mads always put his hands on Yasin's back, and this time is no different. Yasin stands on his toes to better reach over him, just like always. "Hey there Nisqy," Mads greets with that deep voice, and even though he can't see it yet, Yasin can hear the smile on his lips.

"Hey Mads," Yasin responds. When they part, Yasin feels that something is missing. He's happy just to see Mads, he really is. What's wrong, he doesn't know.

Their conversation is how-are-yous and how-have-you-beens, teammate talk and dotted silences - so unlike what they used to talk about, and how they used to talk. Yasin often opens his mouth to speak, but finds himself unable to say what he really wants. Mads asks him if he's doing alright, and saying yes isn't a lie. Not really. At the moment, he's trying to figure out what's missing, and what he wants to tell Mads. It's something, surely. He can't just want to tell someone something, but not know what that is. That's not how it works, right? 

As a silent apology, Yasin settles for paying for both their meals. He asks if he can meet the rest of Fnatic again. He doesn't know why he asks this… maybe he doesn't want this meeting to be over so quickly. He didn't think of anything else to do. Mads doesn't seem to notice this, and tells Yasin that he just needs to ask his manager first. They both know that neither of them are going to genuinely do scrims for Rift Rivals, even if Yasin did some soloqueue himself yesterday. They wait for a response, quiet again, only for Yasin to remember too late about a walk through the city.

So much for belt loops and atmosphere.

\--

Mads is happy to have Yasin come over for the afternoon. He can say hello to his teammates and meet some new ones before their game on Thursday. Unfortunately, Joey responds by telling Mads that Yasin can't actually stop by. They can go out, but Yasin would cause a disruption. Yasin looks so disappointed when Mads tells him this, like a sad puppy. He tries to cheer him up by telling Yasin they can stay here for a while.

"Thanks, bro," Yasin responds, with a smile on his face. "Are you happy?" Yasin asks. "With Fnatic, and stuff." Mads thinks about it. He is happy here, and he likes the team. He feels strong when he is with Fnatic, so it's probably why he's stayed by them. "Yeah, for sure," Mads responds, and Yasin is quiet for a few seconds. "Getting along with Nemesis?"

"Well," Mads starts, "I guess I am. I don't really want to get too attached anymore. It's mostly because of Rasmus." Rasmus left so smoothly. To think Rasmus didn't even expect him to cry the day he left… It hurt Mads a lot. Did Rasmus not realise how much Mads cared? Yasin nods along with him. "Hey, who was better? Me or Rasmus?"

Well… that's kind of out of nowhere, and really uncharacteristic of Yasin. He was never one to compare. Though, he leans on the table with his head on his wrist, with his big eyes sometimes on him, sometimes fluttering off - nothing tense. He almost feels like he's being looked through, for that answer. 

"You've never been indecisive," Yasin mumbles.

"Well, I know you have. Besides, it's a weird question. You've never been one to compare yourself to others," Mads responds. At this, Yasin's eyes widen, his eyebrows scrunching into a frown. He has to quickly repair this. "You know. Hopping regions," he corrects, and Yasin moves his head as if to say 'oh', nods and smiles again.

"Why did you leave?" Mads asks him. There's still so much he doesn't know about Yasin, even after all this time. Not even the new things - the old as well. Yasin taps his finger on the table. He shakes his head. "I think NA was better for me," he tells him. "What does that mean?" Mads asks, confused - and Yasin doesn't really have an answer. "I don't know," he tells him. "I'm just glad to see you again."

That alone seems to calm the tension between them, Mads thinks, and he stands up from the table, offering Yasin a hug. Yasin takes up his offer.

\--

It feels great. It feels wrong. It feels incomplete, and empty. He feels safe with Mads. Why did he go? Why did he come back and then go again? He's made the mistake twice - but which mistake? Going to America, or going to Europe? He can't make either of those decisions again. Mads is right - if anything, Yasin is the indecisive one. Why are the thoughts only flooding in now? He wants to cry, but he doesn't want to cry here.

So he pulls out of the embrace, rougher than he intended - far rougher, as he hits his hip on his chair. He's bound to have drawn some looks. He would think he doesn't care, and yet thinking this shows he does. He's ruining things again, just how he ruined them more every time he came and went - ruining the best friendship he ever had. And Mads looks so confused, and hurt, and Yasin didn't want this, or expect this.

Their late night talks are better than what they have right now. Apart, they're better. Together, in person, Yasin is able to destroy their friendship. He doesn't want to. He should never have over expected. He thought about this meeting too much, and now he has to pay the consequences.

"Yasin, what's wrong?" Mads' voice is low, his eyes serious, his concern almost tangible. Mads has been such a good friend, hasn't he? Yasin hasn't, and it's not a matter of him thinking that. He  _ knows _ it. "You're not happy to see me again?"

"No! No, I am!" Yasin has to immediately shut that terrible thought away. Of course he's happy to see him. "Of course I'm happy to see you." Mads and Yasin look at each other - the distance between them shortened to barely half a meter. 

"Why are you suddenly acting so different? You were so nice just a few minutes ago, and over the texts. Did I do something wrong?" Yasin just sits back down in his seat. He isn't sentimental. If he was, he'd hug Mads again - but he doesn't. He's only left feeling more empty than before

He knew what he wanted, he knew when he wanted it, and that he wanted it too soon. Far too soon. Maybe far too late, in another perspective.

He expected too much out of meeting his best friend again. He looks at Mads and bites his lip. He's spent thirteen hours on a plane flying all the way here, and the least Yasin could do is actually make him happier to be here, and not ruin what little there is left of their long-distance friendship. He feels so ungrateful. His disappointment is no one's fault but Yasin's own.

"Not ready yet?" Mads' gentle breaks away his thoughts, and Yasin lets out the breath he'd been holding in for half a minute. "I guess not," he responds carefully. "Sorry. It's been a while." 

_ He knows I'm lying. _

-

_ I know he's lying. _

But in a way, it's okay. Whatever Yasin doesn't want, Mads won't push on him. There's still so much time to catch up, and Yasin has always been a fickle guy. Maybe he's just a little tired and cranky. Mads has seen his teammates like that over the years. Their last hug was over half a year ago, anyways. He looks at Yasin, and Yasin looks at him.

It's so much more than thirteen hours that separate them.

-

Nisqy looks up from the monitor and keyboard on which his dark eyes were gazing. Across the stage, Broxah and Fnatic look so happy. They defeated Cloud9 - and it was a rough game for sure. Nisqy had tried his best, but trying his best never equates to a guaranteed win.

So when Broxah comes over for the post-game handshakes, they don't hug like they usually do. It's just a wrap of one arm each over a shoulder. That's enough. The forced smile is already enough. Broxah looks more genuinely happy.  _ Mads _ looks happy. It's just not the case for Nisqy. "Good game, brother," Yasin says, and Mads tells him he's always happy to meet him ingame.

Not that the meeting in person was anything spectacular, anyway. At least Mads seemed happy. Maybe he didn't disappoint Mads like he disappointed himself.

  
  


When he has ice cream barely a few hours later in the afternoon, he has the peach scoops placed over the blueberry ones. He sends it to instagram.  _ Celebrating our loss. _ The ice cream is melting a little. The colours mix, and the flavours do too.

Well, what was he expecting to happen?


End file.
